My Dirty Little Secret
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Sebastian Smythe is ruthless, merciless...and in unimaginable pain that Kurt decides to do something about it. Kurt/SebastianFRIENDSHIP Sebangst Sebastian/OMC Abuse warning! Spoilers up to 3x14
1. Chapter 1

**My Dirty Little Secret**

Kurt left the Lima Bean, two coffees in his hand, prepared for a highly rigorous –and most likely pointless—of studying with his boyfriend at his house. He was sending Blaine a text signifying he was leaving when a familiar blazer caught his eye.

Sebastian stood at a sleek-looking silver Lexus, a phone pressed to his ear. He caught part of the conversation as he passed.

"How is this my fault, Mother?" He snapped. "Oh, of course, because I was trying to help someone that's clearly in need, yes, _that_ warrants what he gave me last night. Does it matter what 'foundation' it was? Mother, I-" he paused, looking down at the ground, blinking rapidly. It took Kurt a moment to realize that he was trying not to cry. "Yes. Yes, Mother. I won't. I know it'll upset him. I'll…I'll try. No, we didn't, we lost." He looked up. "I'm sorry. I am a disappointment, I know. I'll try harder. I- Mom?" He looked at the phone, closing it with a shaky exhale.

He slammed his fist against the roof of his car, resting his forehead against his hands. He took a few deep, shaky breaths before turning around, sliding down the door to the ground.

Kurt set the coffees in his car, intent on leaving again…until he heard the undeniable sounds of crying. He turned, peering around the front of the car to see him.

Sebastian truly was crying, one hand over his face, shaking. For the second time in the past two days, Kurt actually felt sorry for him, and he wasn't about to leave him there all alone, no matter how much he'd hated him.

He approached him slowly, not wanting to frighten him.

"Sebastian?" He wasn't successful. The Warbler jumped, hastily wiping his eyes as Kurt knelt beside him.

"Kurt," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I-I, uh-"

"I heard," he said gently. "Sebastian…I know I'm probably the last person on earth you would want to talk to, but…but I'm here if you need to."

He watched as his eyes disconnected from his, thinking for a moment. "Why the hell would you want to help me?" He asked. "I've done nothing but make your life hell. I've tried to take Blaine from you since the moment I met him and now when you can stand over me and gloat because I'm a blubbering mess, you want to help me?" Kurt continued to look at him, his eyes sad.

"Yes."

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head ruefully. "Hey," Kurt said, gaining his attention again. "I know it doesn't make sense that I'd want to help. But I'm not going to leave you here alone unless you absolutely want me to. I'm someone you can talk to, if that's what you need." He continued to look at him, incredulous. All the nasty, snide comments, all the uncensored, brazen flirting he'd done with Blaine right in front of him and then this business with blackmailing his brother and David…

"You're not human, Kurt," he chortled. "You can't be."

Kurt shrugged. "So, are you gonna talk to me, or…?"

"Fine," he croaked, clearing his throat, tears still in his eyes. "I want to say I'm sorry first. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you. I…" He swallowed, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry my father forces me to act like a pretentious dick in front of everyone to keep my social standing as a Smythe. Being the faggot that I am I have to work extra hard not to make him angry or he'll…" He took a shaky breath. "My father…I'm a 'disgrace' to my own name, to his name. He says I won't get anywhere in life being a queer. 'Who was the last successful faggot you know of? If you want that trust fund from your grandparents I suggest you find a nice girl to settle down with.'" He shook his head, bitter, hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

"He loathes me. Loathes my very existence. He and Mother only had me to have someone to give an inheritance to. Carry on the family money and all that. Neither of them give a damn about me. All they care about is how everything looks. They don't give a damn about how I feel, what I want. I drink and party just to get their attention. It doesn't work. I go to Scandals for attention. How unbelievably pathetic is that?" He chortled. "I'm so fucking worthless, and I prove that. I prove it every day."

"Sebastian," Kurt said, shaking his head. "You're not worthless." He laughed again, shaking his head, eyes closed.

"I had a boyfriend once," he whispered, a smile finally gracing his features. "Back in Paris. Only one I ever had, actually."

"What was his name?" Kurt asked gently.

"Tristan Durand," he said. He winced, an expression washing over his face that caused Kurt's own heart to ache; an overwhelming anguish. Heartbreak. Pure, horrible heartbreak. "He took me away from him, my father did. The only thing I've ever loved and had love me back," he choked. "I care about him just as much as you care about Blaine. God, he was everything to me. He was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. So sweet and kind, a lot like Blaine. I think that's why I wanted him so badly. Blaine reminds me of him, I guess."

"What did he look like?" Kurt asked softly. The broken boy dug n his pocket, taking a picture from his wallet, handing it to him with shaky fingers. The boy smiling back in the photo looked shy, a blush in his cheeks as the photo was taken. His dirty blonde hair hung around his bright green eyes, a spatter of freckles across his nose. He squinted against the sun, the smallest, cutest wrinkle in his noise. Kurt smiled, handing it back to him.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" He whispered, looking at it with an unreal amount of pain in his face.

"He's very handsome," He agreed. Sebastian smiled through his tears.

"He was my whole world," he gulped. "He was absolutely everything to me. But…but I'm a _Smythe_, and embarrassing the family name is unacceptable. Father beat me senseless when he found out about him." Kurt blanched, genuinely surprised.

"Your father…he abuses you?"

"I joined a school that wears blazers twenty-four-seven. You wouldn't believe how well a Dalton uniform hides bruises," he whispered. The day I left Tristan was the worst day of my life. Watching him cry like that. God he was so much pain." A fresh wave of sobs took him over. "I'd give anything, _anything_ to see him again. I don't care if my father beats me that way again. I don't care how disappointed Mother will be. Tristan is, and always will be, my home." He cried softly for a moment before he looked up at him.

"There. Now you know the truth. I'm a coward. I'm a scared little boy with Daddy issues and a broken heart. I take my anger out on people around me because I don't know how to handle my own emotions. I wake up every morning, look in the mirror and absolutely loathe what I see, inside and out, and now, what with David's attempted suicide has truly shown me what I am; a bastard and a whore. Even if I do see Tristan again he won't want anything to do with me. Not when I'm like this and he's so gentle and kind… I think that's why I wanted Blaine so badly. He has the same compassion and kindness Tristan does. Not to mention how he looks. I don't think I need to tell you how wonderful he is, though," he chortled, sniffing. Kurt gave him another sad smile. "But no, no he wouldn't ever, _ever_ speak to me after everything, and everyone that I'd done." He closed his eyes, bawling, really.

"I'm so sorry. For everything. For hurting Blaine, for everything that I've said to you, for throwing that slushy in Santana's face, blackmailing Rachel, making that picture of Finn, stealing your idea for Regionals, talking to Blaine the way I do when I know how in love he is with you, for sleeping with every guy that smiles the right way at me. I'm so fucking sorry, Kurt. Maybe if Tristan were here it'd be different. Maybe I'd be different. I don't care if I lose the stupid trust funds. I don't care how badly my father decides to beat me. I'll get my own place, I'll work at the fucking Lima Bean, for God's sake! I don't care what I'd have to do to be with him, anything that happened because of it would be worth it."

A weighted silence fell over them, one that lasted for some time in which Kurt sat and waited and Sebastian calmed his choking sobs.

"Maybe," Kurt said what felt like a lifetime later. "Maybe I could help you find him?"

"He's an entire ocean away, Kurt, and after my father had him expelled for something he didn't do he was in the process of moving. I have no idea where he went. The boy is so poor it's breathtaking. No cell phone, the darling had never even heard of Facebook before," he said, smiling briefly. The only way I could possibly get to him would be to fly back over there and pray that I could stumble on him. It's been a year, Kurt. There's too many variables involved. He's so wonderful he's probably someone else's by now." His throat clutched, cutting off his voice. His eyes shut, shaking with sobs, hands clasped, white and trembling.

"I don't know what to do, Kurt," he confessed. "I'm so lost and scared. I'm so scared all the time. I spend every night staring at my bedroom door, wondering when he's gonna come in and take the frustrations of his day out on me, or if he wants to test a new fresh hell on me. I walk through my house and every corner I turn I wait for him to toss me down the stairs or punch me." He shook his head. "I know I shouldn't be the way I am. Blaine's father is almost as unsavory as mine and his past is just as bad and all those morals are still there." The Warbler wiped his eyes, taking a few moments to regain his composure. He breathed slowly and even steadily after a few minutes.

"Thank you," he said finally, slowly pushing himself off the ground. Kurt offered a hand to help him up, standing with him. "I won't be harassing you and Blaine anymore," he said softly. "Don't be alarmed if I'm a lot quieter, though," he chuckled. Kurt smiled again.

"Give me your phone," he said gently. Sebastian obliged, watching curiously as Kurt typed away. "If you need anything, no matter what time it is or what's going on you can call me, alright?" He nodded.

"Thank you for listening, Kurt," he said softly, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "And please, don't bother telling the police about my father. The neighbors have already tried," he advised. Kurt nodded, masking his horror quite well.

"Be safe," he said, squeezing his shoulder before heading back to the car. Sebastian gave a tiny wave, finishing his original pilgrimage to the coffee shop. Kurt watched him go, climbing into the SUV when he disappeared through the doors. He sighed when the door was closed, all sounds blocked. He put his hands on opposite sides of the steering wheel, bowed his head, and cried.

* * *

><p><em>Sixteen years-old, in Paris without the constant worry of workaholic parents or tutors running in and out of his life or beatings, which had been happening since his coming out a year and a half prior. Here, Sebastian was able to just be and go to a nice private school with other kids his own age. Maybe he'd even meet a nice boy that his father would never know about.<em>

_Today, however, was his Wednesday afternoon to catch up on his studies and sit out in the open air. Despite that it was September, summer was still hanging on, the sun warming the soft, lush grass, a light wind kissing the air. It caressed his skin, causing him to sigh contentedly. _

_He stepped through the park, in search of a spot to do his homework that was free of kissing couples, which was nearly impossible on such a nice day._

_He finally discovered a corner hidden by a few high hedges and sat down, spreading out his things and popping his headphones into his ears. _

_He'd just gotten into his government homework when a blue Frisbee came sailing over the greenery, landing softly in the grass before him. He peered around the corner, looking for the owner as he picked it up. He didn't have to wait long. _

_A boy came trotting around the corner. His shorts were much shorter than most Americans would deem acceptable, a gray athletic T-shirt fitting loosely on his lean form. His face was slicked with sweat, his shirt darkened around the collar from the heat. Sebastian's jaw dropped. His blonde locks covered bright green eyes, a smile on his face, wrinkling his freckled nose. His sun-kissed skin looked soft even from where he sat. He continued to stare in awe for a brief moment, at what was most definitely the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. _

"_Sorry," he said in French, shy, rubbing the back of his head. God, his voice was simply spectacular. _

"_It's alright," Sebastian responded in the native language, standing to give it to him. "Sebastian Smythe." He offered his hand. _

"_Tristan Durand," he said, blushing as he shook his hand. They paused, looking at each other, hands still clasped. Tristan's blush deepened with each passing second but he couldn't find the strength to pull away. Sebastian had lost himself in that sea of green for the second time in the past five minutes. He may not have known anything about this boy, but he never wanted him to leave. _

"_Tristan!" A girl, probably eight or nine with his hair color called, trotting around the corner. _

"_I-I'm coming, Nadine!" He called, breaking eye contact for a brief second. "I, uh, I have to go." _

"_Well," Sebastian began, mildly flirtatious. "I'll probably be here for the rest of the afternoon." Tristan smiled, his breath leaving him for a moment. _

"_Then I will definitely be back, then," he muttered. Sebastian grinned, only letting go of his hand now. Tristan released his with the same reluctance, turning his back to him and jogging away. He paused only once, looking over his shoulder to see if Sebastian's eyes were still on him. He practically turned purple when he saw they were, giggling before turning the corner, out of sight. _

_Sebastian sighed and sat back down. This day had just gotten much better._


	2. Chapter 2

**My Dirty Little Secret**

"_Where have you been all my life?" Sebastian asked, reaching out to hold Tristan's hand. He found his cheeks growing hotter as he linked his fingers through his. _

"_Right here," Tristan said, peering up at him through his lashes. Sebastian turned to him, holding the blond's waist. _

"_Well, then I should've gotten here sooner," he smirked playfully. Tristan smiled, his nose wrinkling as usual, freckles pale in the late city lights. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Tristan's. "Could you be more perfect?" He giggled, looking into his eyes. Now it was Tristan's turn to blush. _

"_I didn't know I was, so…no?" He mumbled, embarrassed. Sebastian grinned, cradling his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes. _

"_That, that right there?" He said, still smiling. "That's why you're perfect." He felt his cheek grow hot under his palm and his smile grew. They looked at each other for a moment, a moment that he as a teenager knew well. _That_ moment. The moment when you look at someone and you subconsciously lean a little closer, you're eyes meet and it's just…that moment. A kissing moment. _

_And this was their first one. He swallowed, staring directly into his bright, gorgeous eyes. Tristan gave the smallest nod, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sebastian's hand slipped down to his neck, gently guiding his face closer to him, closing his eyes. He gasped when their lips met, surprised by hot soft the athlete's lips were. Tristan hummed into the kiss, falling into his arms, knees shaking a little. Sebastian held him fast, working his lips open tentatively, ready to stop at any moment if he wasn't comfortable with it. _

_The opposite happened. Tristan opened his mouth readily, eagerly awaiting the brunette's tongue, luring it with his own. Sebastian's brows shot up, accepting the invitation and suckling back at a surprisingly wonderful mouth. _

"_Where on earth did you learn to kiss like that?" He breathed, the air gone from his lungs. Tristan looked at him wryly. _

"_I'm French, darling. It comes standard." _

_Sebastian laughed with him, dipping him in a very Rom-Com kind of way and kissing him again as the lights on the tower winked and flashed behind them on the hour. _

"_I think that's the most cliché thing that'll ever happen to me," he laughed. Tristan nodded. _

"_I don't think we could do better than that in a million years," he giggled. _

"_Then I think we'll have to try as hard as we can to do so." _

* * *

><p>"<em>So," Tristan began, "what happens if your father finds out about us?"<em>

"_He won't," Sebastian answered quickly, still staring up at the night sky, the air cool around them, the blanket soft beneath them. Tristan looked up at him, his head resting on his shoulder, trying and failing not to stare at the nasty-looking bruise peeking from under his sweater on his collarbone. _

"_Sebastian…" _

"_He won't like it," he said softly. "He might react…badly." Tristan continued to look at him, placing his hand over the bruise, thumbing it through the fabric without letting his expression tell what he was thinking. _

"_Darling," he said nervously. "I…" He looked at him sadly, trying to find the words. "I know he hurts you."_

_Sebastian sat up so quickly Tristan almost got whiplash. He flushed briefly before turning a sickly white. "Hey, hey, it's alright. It's okay." _

"_No, I- I didn't, I, Tristan-!" He stammered. _

"_Sebastian," he breathed, touching his cheek. "It's alright. It's okay." _

"_Please, don't leave me," he begged. _

"_No," he said, shaking his head and touching his lips. "I'm not going to leave you. How could I leave you when you need someone the most?" Sebastian shrugged, tears in his eyes. "Shh…" Tristan soothed, stroking his cheek. _

"_How long have you known?" He breathed. _

"_Since you told me the bruise on your arm was from lacrosse a month before the season started," he said softly. Sebastian nodded, one of the tears escaping to his cheek. Tristan sat up, taking him into his arms. "The police can't do anything. You're…you're not a citizen here. I tried, Sebastian, I…" _

"_You didn't have to do that," he said, voice breaking._

"_Yes I did," he nodded. "I really, really care about you. I have to help you. Shh…" He rocked him gently, smoothing his hair. "Hush, hush, it's okay. You can cry, Sebastian, it's okay." _

_He broke._

_Three months with him, that was all it took to feel better with him than he had anyone else. He didn't feel the judgment he received from the rest of his family. He wasn't being screamed at like he would be if his father were here. He wasn't alienated like he was alone at night in his bedroom when he cried this freely. For the first time in his life Sebastian was cared for without judgment, without false pretenses. He felt safe and, for the first time in his life, cared for. Truly cared for. _

"_Shh…shh…" Tristan soothed, still holding him, kissing his temple. _

_He never thought anyone would believe him if he told. In his world, when someone pulled the child abuse card they were doing it for attention because Daddy cut them off from their platinum card. They didn't say it if they were really being beaten on a nightly basis, as he was. Mothers turned away from children they were sworn to protect when they birthed them. _

_He folded into himself, curling into Tristan's chest, letting himself be held. "Shh, shh…I'm here. I'm here, darling. It's okay. Shh…"_

_They stayed that way for sometime, Sebastian in Tristan's arms, Tristan refusing to let him go until he was alright. "I don't care where you are, if you need anything, anything at all I will be there for you. All you have to do is come over and I'll do what I can, alright?" Sebastian nodded, crying harder. "I'll always be there for you. I promise. You're not alone anymore."_

* * *

><p><em>Six whole months. That's how long he'd been with this wonderful boy, secret as they may be. Tristan didn't mind. There wasn't a lot that Tristan <em>did_ mind. He seemed to be calm and content no matter what was happening. And no matter how sad Sebastian was, or how sore he was from a beating, or how angry he was that Mother had once again blamed the abuse on his behavior Tristan could calm him with one tiny smile. One look from those beautiful eyes, one brush of his hand, one wrinkle in his cute little nose and all his troubles were gone._

"_Why do you keep looking at me like that?" He asked more than once. Sebastian would simply smile, tuck a curl behind his ear and say, _

"_Because you're the most perfect boy in the world," he whispered. And Tristan would blush and go back to what he was doing, cheeks pink for minutes afterward._

_He never ceased to amaze him. No matter what sport it was, Tristan could play it, and play it well. Whether he was kicking around a football or a rugby ball, playing lacrosse or even kicking a hacky sack –which Sebastian found out by tossing one at him one day and watched him knock it back and forth for about half an hour—he mastered the art. _

_He made him happy, something no one had ever done in the past. He'd never been allowed to be happy before. Something always came up to knock him down, a disappointing look, a hateful word, making him fly across an ocean so he would have "proper" education. And this simple, eloquent, stunning, gentle boy made him forget it all._

_Then one day, everything changed. _

_They were at the park early that March, sitting on a blanket, Sebastian reading a well-worn paperback aloud while Tristan's head rested in his lap. _

"_I love it when you read to me," he said blissfully, smiling with his eyes closed. Sebastian paused, smiling down at him and rubbing his forehead. _

"_I'm glad." _

"_I love it when you kiss me, too," he hinted. Sebastian chuckled and leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. There was a pause as Tristan continued to lay there, eyes closed. Sebastian went on reading, closing it and dog-earing the page when the chapter was finished. _

"_Sebastian, I love you." _

_He blanched, staring at him for a moment, his eyes wider than any humans should have been. "You-you what?" He said, his throat clutching on him. Tristan opened his eyes, grinning blissfully._

"_I love you," he said simply. "Your voice, your face, your smile, your hair, your hands, your laugh…I love it all. Every time I'm around you my tongue swells and I can't talk correctly. You smile and I can't breathe, you touch me and I physically have to stop myself from shaking, I…" He shook his head. "I love you with everything I have. It's just taken me awhile to be brave enough to say it aloud." _

"_Really?" Sebastian whispered. Tristan sat up, looking skeptical. _

"_Is it really that hard to believe?" He chuckled. Sebastian looked away, tears in his eyes. "Darling," the blond said, touching his cheek, worried. "Darling, what's wrong?" _

"_I'm sorry," Sebastian said, trying to smile through it. "I love you too, more than I can possibly express in words. But for you to…No one's ever said that to me, Tristan." The blond stared at him, heart wrenching painfully in his chest. _

"_What?" He breathed. "Sebastian, that-" _

"_It's true," he nodded, averting his eyes again. _

"_Your mother never…?" He shook his head. "And your father-" _

"_Please," he scoffed. "You really are the only one that's ever loved me. I was starting to think that…that no one _could _love me and…" He trialed off. He didn't mean to confess so much to him, then again he never did. "But you…you do?" Tristan took his hand, taking the reading glasses from those tear-filled hazel eyes. _

"_For anyone not to love you is a crime, mon cher. You're perfect." He kissed him. _

"_I'm sorry I'm so broken," he whispered. "You deserve someone better than me." _

"_Hush," he said firmly, his eyes gentle, cradling his cheek. Sebastian kissed him hard, so needy and desperate. _

"_Say it again…please," he begged. Tristan's heart clenched again, hearing how raw and trembling his voice was. He opened his eyes, looking at him, watching tears trek from under his closed lids. He pressed their foreheads together, still holding his face. _

"_I love you," he whispered, kissing him again. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He felt the tears break from their cling on Sebastian's eyelashes transfer to his cheeks, wetting his face. "And I always will. No matter what." _


	3. Chapter 3

**My Dirty Little Secret**

_They were lying on Sebastian's couch, watching a movie they'd both seen a dozen times together, the French subtitles on so Tristan didn't have to pay such close attention, warm, comfortable, content… Other than Sebastian slowly losing his mind as the night progressed. _

_Tristan was resting his head on his chest, one hand on his leg, unaware of precisely what he was doing to the tenor at his right. His hand was absently stroking his thigh, and it had been for the last half hour, working further and further inside without realizing what he was doing. That, combined with the warm breath on his neck, the soft musk of his skin and the cologne he'd bought him for Christmas had turned into the most arousing and wonderful cocktail he'd ever had the pleasure of discovering. _

_He looked at him, knowing his pupils were dilated, his heart was beating a little too fast and there was something rather embarrassing growing beneath his khakis. _

"_What?" Tristan said, self conscious, blushing a little. Sebastian placed his hand over the one on his leg, never breaking eye contact as he straightened out. _

"_You're driving me insane," he whispered, eyes hungry. Tristan swallowed, suddenly very aware of what was beneath his hand. _

"_I-I didn't mean to," he said sheepishly, turning impish as he scooted back, watching Sebastian follow him, smirking, looking like a large cat as he crept toward him, nothing stopping them from behaving this way. His parents were in Hong Kong for the week, nowhere in sight, no danger of anyone walking in, such as a little sister or brother wanting another bed time story, interrupting make-out after make-out. _

_Not this time. _

"_Well regardless, you did," he said softly. _

"_I think I can fix it," he breathed, smiling again. He grabbed his face, kissing him hard and deep, feeling the American sigh as he was finally rewarded with what he wanted. Passion overrode them both, sending their lips into a frenzy, neither of them really understanding what was happening, or where they were. All that existed was the other's mouth and _ohh, _he didn't know a tongue could _do_ that._

_He moaned into Tristan's lips, his fingers digging into his well-worn T-shirt. The blond's calloused fingers tore through the zipper of his jacket, forcing it off of him and chucking it across the room._

"_Wait," Sebastian breathed. Tristan paused, his kiss-swollen lips parted and wet. "I don't think we should do this on my couch." Tristan laughed, nodding. "And I…I don't know if we should do this at all. I mean, do you…?" _

"_Do I want to make love and simultaneously lose my virginity with you?" He asked. Sebastian nodded, pursing his lips. Tristan placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. "Yes. But you're right, we shouldn't do this on the couch…or if you're not ready." _

"_I am," he nodded, holding his cheek. They were kissing again, a slower, burning heat this time. "I'll be right back," he promised, forcing himself away as he stood and backed away. Tristan looked at him, his hair mussed, out of breath, beautiful. "Don't, don't move, okay?" He nodded._

"_Don't take too long," he winked. Sebastian darted up the stairs, leaving Tristan alone and doing his best not to deal with the problem in his jeans. He tried readjusting himself, but that only led to touching, which led to rubbing, which led to him giving gentle strokes through the denim that weren't enough, but he'd have to settle for now. _

_Five minutes later Sebastian was scrambling down the stairs, almost falling over when he saw the state of his lover on his couch. Tristan's head was thrown back, biting his lip, a thin sheen of sweat working over his tanned skin, hand almost rubbing feverishly against the crotch of his pants. _

"_Oh my god," he breathed, unable to think or process much else before he rushed to the couch, swiftly grabbing his hands, straddling him and kissing him all at once. "You started without me," he teased. Tristan smirked, breathy as he spoke. _

"_You took too long." _

"_It'll never happen again." Kissing once more, Sebastian put his hand on his back, guiding him up, careful not to break them apart. Once standing, Tristan leapt into his arms, gasping softly when he felt Sebastian's thin fingers squeezing his ass as he supported him. He felt a wall press against his back a beat later, fingers fisting in his hair to bring them impossibly closer, teeth and lips gnashing at each other, not for control, but for contact. For_ more_. Everything was so hot and wet and if the tendons in Sebastian's neck got any tighter they might snap. _

"_Sebastian," he breathed, tearing away for just a breath. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere." He softened. Making their kisses softer, deeper, a new tenderness in his touch. Tristan reciprocated, both fully understanding just what they were about to give each other. He took him upstairs, guiding him, still kissing, pausing at times to hold him or just look at him. _

_They showered first, stepping into the bathroom that Sebastian had littered with candles, causing Tristan to blush and giggle stupidly. The would-be Warbler turned him around, cupping his cheek before peeling the shirt from his body. He gasped, looking at the tone muscles, so soft in the candlelight. He was decorated with a few scattered scars, shoulders dotted with freckles, so unbelievably beautiful. _

"_Not that great, huh?" He said, rubbing the back of his neck. Sebastian continued to stare, awed. _

"_You're breathtaking." A gentle kiss to his neck, feeling his blush still. He took off his own shirt, feeling Tristan's hands gently stroke and touch him all over. _

"_I knew you were hot," he giggled. Sebastian laughed with him, nuzzling their noses together. They continued to undress each other, touching and tasting, so curious as they explored each other. Tristan was stunning, as he'd already predicted. _

_Their tactics changed once under the water. Everything was soft, slow and warm, tender and gentle with only the most innocent of touches as they washed each other's hair and bodies. Tristan remained bashful of being so exposed, so self-conscious of his appearance for absolutely no reason. He was so perfect…_

"_Sweetheart," he whispered, the hiss from the shower almost drowning him out. "Don't be embarrassed. You're gorgeous." It only made his blush worse. _

"_Are you sure?" He said. "I'm not…" _

"_You're wonderful." _

_He wrapped him in a towel when they stepped out to stop him from shivering in the open air, so exposed, so…so naked. He didn't want him to feel anything but safe here. _

"_Sebastian could I…could I have some privacy for a minute?" He whispered, blushing furiously. _

"_Y-yeah," he stammered, blushing himself. "Sorry, I'll, um…" He stepped out awkwardly, rolling his eyes at himself when he was out of sight again. _

_Tristan adjusted his hair half a dozen times, trying to look and essentially be perfect. He hated how this blond mop was such a mess all the time. He cursed himself for not being sexy and suave like how he'd seen in movies. He wished he could be that for Sebastian but the fact of the matter was, he wasn't._

_He sighed, finally deciding to go out there and…and make love to that sweet, sweet, beautiful boy out there that thought he was the greatest thing in the world. _

_Sebastian had dried off and tried to make everything as perfect as he could muster. Now, the only hindrance at hand was what to do with himself. He tried sitting on his bed and in his chair as well as laying down in various positions, only to feel stupid no matter what he did. _

"_This is ridiculous," he muttered, face in his hands. He looked up when the door opened, looking at his shy, gorgeous boyfriend slowly peeking through the doorway, just as nervous and awkward as he was. _

_Tristan looked around at all the candles flickering and winking around the room, casting everything in a gentle light, spreading warmth all over, all illuminating the bed as its centerpiece. The sheets were crisp, freshly made and pleading to be broken into. And Sebastian. Sweet, beautiful Sebastian sitting so bashfully on the edge of his bed, staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Naked. Perfect. Gorgeous. _

_The brunette could only stare. This was far too perfect to be real. _He_ was too perfect to be real. "Come here," he whispered, reaching for him and taking his hands and connecting their lips, slowly working against the velvet feel of his mouth, running his fingers through his silken hair. _

"_Mmn, Tristan," he breathed, so lost in his kiss. The blond eased him down onto the covers, kissing his neck, butterfly soft in pressure. Timid fingers explored his body, feeling, testing, marveling at the tiny movements that happened under the pads of his fingertips as they made their journey. Sebastian's muscles continued to tense, then relax under his touch, short, hot gasps for air tearing from his throat. "Tristan," he groaned, shuddering. _

_Their lips connected again, the gentleness becoming much more urgent now. The heat built between their kisses, their hot, wet kisses, and the neediness in their lips transferred to their hands. _

"_Sebastian," he breathed, taking a moment just to look at him, anxiety and want built in his stomach, heart thundering in his throat. "I'm glad it's you," he nodded. "I'm so glad it's you." Sebastian smiled, suddenly feeling as if he wanted to cry. _

"_Me too," he whispered, suppressing it. "I'm glad it's you too." _

"_What do you want to do?" Tristan gulped, stroking his cheek. _

"_Just to be near you. We don't have to do anything e-elaborate. Unless you want—" _

"_That's perfect," he said, touching his lips to shush him. Suddenly everything that had been soft, slow and patient wasn't. Everything was fast, sudden, desperate and needy. _

"_Oh God, Tristan!" Sebastian shuddered, his insides coiling, burning._

_Tristan was gasping and whimpering, his sandy colored hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, everything so hot and new and wonderful and positively beautiful, muttering in both French and English, somehow making it even more difficult for Sebastian to breathe. _

_Tristan watched him fall apart underneath him, every worry rushing out of his head all at once, body tense and shaking just a little, breathtaking. "Sebastian, you're so beautiful." Faster, hotter, more._

"_More, more…" _

"_Je t'aime, Sebastian. Uhn, je t'aime toujours, mon cher. UH!" _

"_Yes, Tristan, yes! God, yes, more!" _

_Faster, faster, their moans and screaming becoming louder with each movement. _

"_Sebastian, I'm so close!" He trembled, falling into his neck. _

"_M-Me too!" _

_A few more rough jerks and they were shouting each other's names, panting and heaving. _

_They wrapped their arms around each other, kissing sloppily, tears in their eyes. _

"_I love you," Sebastian whispered, cradling his cheek. "I love you so much." _

"_I love you too." Another kiss. _

_They stayed wrapped together, choosing to ignore the mess until tomorrow because everything was so warm and wonderful. Sebastian watched Tristan until he fell asleep, running his fingers through his hair, so perfect and beautiful. "I'll never leave you. I'll keep you right here with me for the rest of my life. You know why? Because you're the greatest thing that will ever come into my life and I'm not letting you get away." _

_He shut his eyes, resting his cheek against his hair, missing the tiny smile Tristan gave in his "sleep." _

* * *

><p><em>Three months later…<em>

_He slammed into the wall, gasping when he felt an iron grip clasp around his throat. _

"_I should kill you, faggot!" His father roared._

"_Wh-what did I do?" He stammered, refusing to let the stagnant tears in his eyes fall. _

"_You know goddamn good and well what you've done," he dragged him across the room, fisting his shirt, ignoring how hard he was trembling. He shoved him into a chair in front of the kitchen table, tossing pictures from a folder in his hands onto the surface. They were photos of him…and Tristan. Holding hands, walking down the street, kissing, eating ice-cream, taking off each other's clothes and-_

_He gasped, snatching them up as quickly as he could as the pictures that fell got continually more graphic. He clutched them to his chest, scrambling for the rest of them, trying to hide Tristan's body from him. A sob jumped from his throat, so humiliated. _

"_Do you know what I'm talking about now?" The father snarled. "IN MY HOUSE! IN MY HOUSE, YOU COCKSUCKER!" He backhanded him mercilessly, catching his other cheek in a slap on the backswing. Sebastian kept a tight hold on the pictures, shaking like a leaf. _

"_Th-this was private!" He broke off, a fist colliding with his chin that sent him to the floor, scattering the photographs that he hastily tried to gather again. _

"_Not in my house it's not." _

_Sebastian looked up at his father, arms shaking, blood on his lips, praying. _

"_I'm sending you back home. All this place has done is turn you into an even bigger queer than you were before," he spat, ignoring his wife's gasp as she entered the room. "You'd better get packed, you're leaving tomorrow, and you'll never see that little fag again." _

"_Don't talk about him that way!" He said tearfully, far braver than he meant to be. His father's shoe collided with his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. _

_The pictures fell again and his mother stepped back, looking at her son as if he were a murderer. Sebastian tried to reach for them again, a tear escaping to his cheek. Tristan didn't deserve this. Not this. To be exploited and exposed on the kitchen floor in front of his parents was just…no._

"_I'll say whatever I damn well please," the father snapped, taking a fistful of his hair. "I'm going to give you a beating that you will never forget. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson." _

"_Please," he begged, the lump in his throat even harder to swallow past. "Don't send me back, please, you can't—!" Another punch to a bruised face. _

"_Yes, as a matter of fact I can. I can also make sure that little queer knows what happens when you try and defile the Smythes."_

"_What did you do to him?" He exclaimed, his heart beating irregularly and painfully. Another strike to his face._

"_He's been expelled from school, didn't he tell you? Oh, that's right, he's so poor he can barely afford the shack he lives in, let alone a phone." Sebastian stared at him in disbelief, so broken. _

"_No, no, you can't do this to him!" Struck again. _

"_Apparently I can. You're lucky I didn't get him arrested too, cocksucker. And I'd be thanking God I didn't disown you too." _

Do it,_ he thought miserably._ Get rid of me. Cast me out of your life so I can be with him, PLEASE!

_His father struck him again, knocking him back on his face and to the floor. "I suggest after this you say your goodbyes," he said, chuckling, shoving him back to the tile with his shoe. "If you can stand when I'm done, that is."_


	4. Chapter 4

**My Dirty Little Secret**

_Tristan sat on his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks, sniffing and looking at his hands. Thankfully his mother had believed him when he explained the drugs found in his locker weren't his, and she believed him again when he explained what Sebastian's father had probably done and she needed to worry more about him than where they would have to move for him to go to school. She'd been roped into a night-shift tonight, leaving him to get his brothers and sisters fed and in bed by himself, then sit and wait and let his imagination predict what tortures his beloved had gone through. _

_A soft knock on the front door down the hall brought him out of his thoughts. He leapt from his bed, praying it was who he needed to see most right now. He ripped open the door, and froze._

_He was bruised, blood cleaned from split and swollen lips. His cheeks were raw and wet, shaking from head to toe with tears in his blackened eyes. He clutched his side, as if his ribs were wounded, shirt torn. He looked so young, so broken. _

"_Sebastian." That was all it took. He fell into Tristan's arms, crying, kissing his neck despite the pain, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. _

"_Tristan, I'm so sorry!" He moaned, so agonized. _

"_Shh, no, no, baby. None of that. It's alright. Shh… I'm not mad, it's alright." He looked him over, feeling him tremble, knowing that the damage he could see was probably nothing compared to what was beneath his clothes. "Darling, what did he do to you?" Sebastian shook his head. _

"_I don't want to talk about that," he breathed. "I have to leave first thing in the morning and I…we…I might not see you again!" He broke down again, trying to sob softly so as not to wake the children. _

"_Shh, okay, okay, then we…Come with me." _

_He walked him back to his room, sitting him down on the bed across from his mother's, who he had to share a room with, stroking his cheek. Sebastian dove for his lips, desperate to touch him for as long and as many times as he could before it was over. Tristan kissed him back, the reality slowly sinking in that he was going to lose him. _

"_I love you," he said. "I'll never be able to say it enough, but I love you. I love you so much!" _

"_I love you too," he nodded, touching his face, running his fingers through his hair, trying to commit all of this to memory. He shook his head again. "I don't want to do this yet. I want to…to make love to you one more time." _

_They were slow, gentle, needing and soft, just like that first time, both afraid, but so trusting of the other it didn't stop them. Tristan was more than cautious in taking off Sebastian's clothes, tears sliding down his cheeks as he looked at the bruises, scraped and cuts his father had inflicted on him. He kissed the abused skin, holding him. "You're beautiful," he assured. Sebastian scoffed a little, looking down at himself. Tristan caught his lips again, chaste and passionate all at once. "You are. Don't let anyone tell you differently." _

_Every touch was designed to memorize, praying that they would never forget one second of this night, or any night spent with each other, clutching, kissing and touching desperately. They could feel the ragged beating of the other's broken heart, the pain transferring between them with each kiss, any glance at the clock on Tristan's nightstand eliciting a quiet cry from both of them. _

_They held each other when it was over, looking at each other, kissing, not saying a word, hoping that if nothing was said then no time would pass and they could stay this way forever. _

"_Where will you be in America?" He whispered. Sebastian shrugged. _

"_He won't tell me," he admitted tearfully. "Where are you moving?" Tristan looked at him, his lips trembling. _

"_I don't know either. Maman's trying to find a place for us, but…" He shook his head. "It's hard but she wants me to go to a good school…" _

"_Shh," he soothed, stroking his cheek. "It'll be alright. Shh…" _

"_Not if you're not with me," he gulped. "If you're not here, I can't…" They kissed, keeping their faces close. "Sebastian, let's run away. You have your passport and I have mine, let's go somewhere far away where they can never find us. We can find some little village in Italy, live in some little flat. You can finish going to school and I'll get a job somewhere and it'll be quiet and perfect. Let's just go." _

_Sebastian cradled his cheek, using every ounce of willpower he had to speak again. "We can't, darling," he whispered. "We can't. Well, I can, you can't." _

"_No, no, Sebastian, I don't—" _

"_Who's going to help your mom?" He whispered. Tristan shut his eyes, lips trembling. The tears continued working down Sebastian's cheeks as he spoke. "Who knows everyone's favorite bedtime stories, huh? Bernadette? You and I both know she won't tell it right, and Willy will have a fit, won't he?" He urged, smiling softly. Tristan couldn't help but smile back. "And Sophie can't cook to save her life. They need you here, baby. I promise you, someday you and I will live in some little village in Italy where no one will ever find us and it'll just be you and me. I swear." _

_Tristan was sobbing in his arms again, so broken and afraid. Sebastian buried his face in his hair, crying himself, holding onto him as tightly as he could. "Shh, shh… If it's meant to be, we'll be together again," he breathed. Tristan nodded, wondering if he held onto him tight enough no one could ever take him away. _

_Hours passed, ticking by faster than any of them wanted it to. Tristan had dozed off, his eyes swollen from crying, still beautiful. The lump in his Sebastian's throat grew to record size when the sunlight started to peek through the windows. He sobbed silently, gently kissing his love's still lips. "I love you," he whispered, slowly slipping out of his arms so as not to wake him. "I'll never forget you, Tristan. Not ever. Please…don't forget me either." _

_He got dressed in silence, in such agony. He smoothed his hair one more time, tucking the blankets around him and kissing his forehead. "Goodbye." _

_He walked through the silent house, his heart absolutely shattered, pieces falling on the floor. _

_He was halfway across the lawn when he heard the door burst open again. "Sebastian!" He turned, catching Tristan in his arms when he ran at him, holding him while he sobbed into his neck. "You wouldn't have let me say goodbye?" _

"_I didn't want you to cry anymore," he said, so agonized. Tristan shivered in the early morning air, wearing nothing but his boxers and a T-shirt. "Here," Sebastian gently set him down, peeling off his lacrosse pullover and putting it on him. "Keep it," he whispered. Tristan sniffed, unclasping the silver cross from around his neck and putting it around his. "Tristan—" _

"_You don't to forget me if I don't get to forget you," he said, trying to sound playful. He touched his cheek. "This isn't goodbye," he said firmly. "We will see each other again someday." _

"_Promise?" He asked, voice cracking, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket; his father calling him. Tristan nodded, kissing him one last time. They put everything into that kiss, every ounce of love they could manage to let the other know how they felt. They broke apart, Sebastian still holding his face. _

"_I love you, Tristan Durand. I always will." _

"_I love you too, Sebastian Smythe." _

_He backed away, holding his hand until the last possible second, never looking away as he got into his car. He drove away sobbing, watching in his rearview as Tristan stood half-naked in the middle of his yard, falling to his knees and crying into his hands. _

Sebastian looked down at the drink in front of him, swallowing the tears. That lump that had been in his throat had turned to stone and sunk to his heart a long time ago, leaving him cold, bitter and angry.

He thought about Tristan every day, about how he felt in his arms, the way he smiled and that sweet bashfulness. There were things that was starting to fade away. His voice, his laugh, little things that he so desperately wanted to hang on to. But the tighter he held onto them the faster they slipped away.

He shut his eyes, reaching inside his collar to toy with the cross around his neck, closing his eyes, too upset and depressed to bother with the other guys in the bar. Instead he would drink to numb himself, wait to sober up and the hollow pit to come back, loneliness and agony seeping through the scars in his heart before he went home and prayed his father had already gone to bed so he could get on with crying himself to sleep.

Just a normal night.

* * *

><p>Blaine listened intently, his brow furrowed as Kurt spoke, his heart aching slightly for someone he'd almost detested moments before. The loss of someone he loved so much, it was no wonder he behaved the way he did.<p>

"…And, God, Blaine, he looked so helpless and broken it…it was like he was a different person," he explained, looking just as sad as Blaine felt.

He shook his head. "There's gotta be something we can do." Kurt nodded, standing and going to the computer. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," he said, tossing Blaine his phone. "We're gonna make some phone calls.

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks later…<em>

Sebastian sat at the same stool, looking at nothing, his heart still hollow and ragged. He had nowhere to hide anymore, nowhere he could go where pain didn't haunt him. And he loathed it. He threw back the shot, knowing that even that couldn't numb his heart and his mind the way it used to, the way it did before he told Kurt everything and made it real. He hadn't spoken much these past few weeks, and he'd shown absolutely no emotion when he sang, discouraging the other Warblers, but he didn't react much beyond an "I'm sorry. Just not feeling it today, guys."

So here he was, still utterly depressed and wishing he could feel something, _anything_, besides this agony. But he didn't have the strength or the patience to deal with the other guys around him, many young and his type that he could take to his back seat and at least feel something different for awhile.

He ordered another shot instead.

"Hey," a voice said, body occupying the space beside him. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks, buddy, but I'm not open for business at the moment," he said shortly, knocking the drink back.

"Not even for me?"

He turned, agitated and about to give this guy a piece of his mind. He froze, hearth thudding, stomach turned to ice.

"Tristan?"


	5. Chapter 5

**My Dirty Little Secret**

"Tristan," he whispered, staring at him, the sound of rushing water filling his ears, drowning out all sound besides his heart hammering in his chest.

"Hi, Sebastian," he said softly.

He ran. He bolted from the bar, shoving through the throngs of people out into the parking lot. "Sebastian!" The cross pressing against his chest was heavy and hot, burning with his sins. How was he supposed to face him now? Now when he had shamed himself so much and betrayed the boy he loved. "Sebastian!" He stopped, realizing he was still running. Tristan kept up easily, trotting to a halt behind him. "Sebastian, why are you running from me?" He asked, pained.

"How?" He gulped, facing away from him. "How are you here?"

"My new school has a foreign exchange program. I got picked for a scholarship and went to Cincinnati. I didn't know how to get a hold of you here. I didn't have your mobile number or anything. I didn't know what to do. But your friend Kurt, he called me. Called half of Paris from what it sounded like. "And I…I'm wondering if it was that easy for Kurt to do it, why didn't you?"

"My father, um, he monitors my calls," he whispered. "And there's no land-line." He swallowed, tears in his eyes, still not looking at him. "Tristan, there's things I've done, things you don't know about—"

"Yes I do," he breathed. "Kurt told me everything."

"Then why are you here?" He choked, the tears slipping to his cheeks. "Do you want me to apologize? Do you want to know how sorry I am for what I did?"

"No, no," he said softly, reaching out to take his hand, turning him around. "I came here to tell you I forgive you." Sebastian blanched. "I understand why, and it's okay." He touched his cheek. "It's _okay_, Sebastian."

He stared at him, really broken, crying hard now. He grabbed his face, crushing their mouths together. They were frantic, catching lips with teeth, both crying and clinging to each other as tightly as possible.

"I missed you so much!" The Warbler sobbed, leaning in his neck, pressing his lips to his skin. "God, I missed you. I love you, I never stopped loving you."

"Neither did I," he whispered, holding him. "I'm never letting you go again. Not for anything."

"I won't either," Sebastian said, squeezing him impossibly closer. They kept kissing over and over, peppering each other's faces with them, touching, caressing and holding whatever they could reach. "Come home with me. My parents are gone and—"

"Shh, baby," he breathed. "The family I'm living with gave me money for a hotel room so I had somewhere to sleep. We can go there and we don't…we don't have the risk of being watched again."

Sebastian fell in another fit of tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry he did that to you—"

"To _us_," he amended, touching his cheek. "Baby, let's go." Sebastian nodded but refused to let him go. "Shh, darling, I'm not going to disappear."

"I've had nightmares like this," he whispered. "Nightmares where I find you and I run toward you but no matter how close I get, I can never reach you. Or I hold you just like I am right now and when I let go you disappear and I spend hours trying to find you in the dark. I can't ever find you," he sobbed.

"Shh, shh, hush, it's alright, darling. It's alright. I won't disappear. Shh…" He slowly let go, smiling when he did. "See? Right here with you." Sebastian reached out again, taking his hand frantically. "Shh, let's go. Let me show you how much I missed you, how much I love you." Another deep, longing kiss. "Come on, baby."

The walls that Sebastian had worked so hard to build up were tumbling down around him, revealing that same broken, needy boy that Kurt had caught a glimpse of in that parking lot.

Once in the hotel room all the pain, sadness and sheer joy at seeing each other again gushing from their pores, laughing, crying and loving each other so much. Tristan kissed his lips and his face, holding him, giving him the only thing he ever wanted. To be loved.

Sebastian worked the sweater from Tristan's torso, leaving him in nothing but his formed undershirt. He frowned, worry flooding his eyes. Tristan avoided his gaze, shame in his own. His ribs were so well defined, shoulder blades defined through the fabric, collarbone striking against his skin. "Tristan…"

"I'm sorry," he said frantically, shaking. "I'm sorry, I tried to…"

"Tristan, darling, you were doing _so well_," he said, touching his cheek. He kissed him softly.

"I know, I know, but when you left I…I don't know all of those doubts came back, all of those feelings and self-loathing and I…I think I'm ugly again." He let out a dry sob. "I hate my face and my body. I'm always too fat no matter what I don't eat, no matter how much I throw up. Then I eat and feel better but I feel so guilty for it, I just…"

"Shh, shh, it's alright," he soothed, still holding him. "Tristan, it's alright. Shh… We'll get through this. We got through it once, and I'll be there for you this time too. I love you, baby."

"I love you too." He kissed him deeply, cheeks wet.

"Baby, please tell me you didn't start cutting again too," Sebastian whispered, absently touching his leg. Tristan looked away again.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to _me_; I'm not the one getting hurt. I want you to be safe, I want you to be happy. I love you so much. And you're still so beautiful to me." He peppered gentle kisses across his cheeks and his lips.

"Don't let me go, please?" He asked softly.

"Never," he said firmly.

Tristan's hands ghosted over Sebastian's scars, just as they had before. He winced, knowing there were more now than when he'd left him. "I swear, one day I'll kill that bastard for hurting you."

"It's okay."

"No," Tristan said firmly, holding his face. "No, darling, it's not okay. It'll never be okay. Not as long as he keeps touching you like this."

"Tristan," he said, leaning up to kiss him. "Let's stop talking."

Warm, soft, needing skin against skin, touching so carefully, so delicately, relishing every single second of these moments when they got to be so close.

The kisses were slow, stripping even slower, touches so gentle and butterfly soft. Their bodies melded together so easily, so familiar and yet so new at the same time.

Sebastian gasped and Tristan whimpered when their skin touched again, the gentle pressure sending shockwaves through them. They were kissing again, deeper, needier if at all possible. Sebastian looked up at his love, still able to count every freckle on his cheeks and see the light and beauty in his eyes. So breathtaking, so gorgeous, so beautiful inside and out.

"God, I love you."

"I love you more."

"Prove it."

Another soft whimper as they began to rut against each other, shuddering. Everything was so hot, so horribly, wonderfully, gloriously hot. Their skin was slicked in sweat, aiding the friction building between them.

Being with Tristan was far better than any other boy he'd touched. This was so intimate, so loving, so perfectly right. Destiny, maybe.

"Oh, Tristan," he choked. The blonde grunted quietly, the sound giving way to a low moan that caused his spine to tremble, so beautiful.

"More, Sebastian, please…" He pleaded.

They were rolling next, sending Tristan on his back, looking into Sebastian's hazel eyes, his hair mussed and limp from its style. They moved faster, harder, so frantic, skin against skin.

"Tristan, I'm—"

"Me too," he shuddered, breathless whispers pouring from his lips, mostly French.

"Oh, _GOD!" _

"SEBASTIAN!"

Then it was over. Desperate gasps filled the air, sweat slicking their skin, hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen and bruised. They stayed tangled together, warm, soft, so comfortable and dazed.

"He won't take me away from you again," Sebastian breathed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Darling-"

"No! No, I won't let him."

"I just don't want you to do anything rash, alright?" He whispered.

"I will do whatever it takes to be with you," he said solemnly, jaw set, determined. Tristan shook his head, kissing his forehead.

"I want you to be _safe_. God knows how badly I need you, but if you're in danger of him hurting you I don't want that either," he said. Sebastian lifted his chin, his other hand gently running up and down his side.

"If you need my support to help you through this again then I _have_ to be there for you. I'm not gonna leave you when your mom's all the way in France-"

"You can't tell Maman," he said frantically, shaking his head. "You can't she has so much to worry about—"

"Hey, hey, shh," he soothed, kissing his cheek. "I won't tell her, but you can't do this alone. I won't leave you."

"Just…please, promise me, if he hurts you you _get help_. Talk to Kurt, or _me_. I may not be able to do much, but I can dial 911, they taught me how," he said firmly.

"I promise," he swore, giving him another gentle, innocent kiss. "Now can we just go to sleep?" Tristan nodded, squeezing him tight. Sebastian nuzzled against his chest, sighing softly.

They looked at each other for the longest time, just watching, reassuring themselves this wasn't a dream. This was real. They were here, in love and together.

Tristan gave in to slumber first, leaving Sebastian to look at his peaceful features, trace his cheeks and his lips. So beautiful, so enticingly lovely it almost hurt him to look at him. it was seeing that beauty, knowing how hurt Tristan was, how much he needed _someone_ that knew him well enough to be there for him and help him through this, love him like he needed to be loved and make him happy, that he resolved to do something he'd never dreamed of before.

It was high time he stood up to his father.

-Sorry it's so short. More A LOT SOONER than this one, scout's honor!-


	6. Chapter 6

**My Dirty Little Secret**

_It took him awhile to notice. _

_On their third date, that's when he first saw it. _

_Tristan had sectioned off portions on his plate. He stared at each bite before he ate it, mouthing wordlessly, looking up as if he were counting. _

_It was harder to see when he ordered small meals and more noticeable when he spent the entire day with him. Small, tiny portions, constant mutterings of "no, darling, I'm not hungry, you go ahead" and "No, I just ate awhile ago. I'm alright" and the famous "I think I'm coming down with something. I'm not hungry."_

_The day after their date at the park, the day Tristan told him he loved him when they went to the lake, that's when he saw it. He wore a T-shirt into the water, white and tight. And when it got wet..._

_Sebastian saw how thin he was, truly how thin. The polos and sweaters over V-necks hid it so well, how bad it really was. And seeing this, seeing the undeniable signs of the love of his life starving himself, that's what did it. _

"_Tristan?" He said, looking at his body, worried half to death. _

"_Yes?" He said, shaking the water out of his hair, smiling. _

_He could see it now, the pain behind the smile, the pain in his eyes. Sebastian stepped closer to him, holding his waist, his own body wet. Tristan smirked. "Oh, you want attention? I can do that, come here." He leaned in to kiss him. _

"_No, Tristan, honey, listen. Why...why are you so...?" He whispered. Tristan looked at him, paling, terrified. "Tristan, you're so skinny, why?" He didn't answer, almost as if he _couldn't_ answer. _

"_I...Sebastian..." He stammered, searching, looking around. Sebastian touched his cheek. _

"_Why? Why would you do this yourself?" He said gently, touching his cheek. _

"_Can we talk about this somewhere else?" He asked, swallowing. "Or...or when we're done here? We were supposed to have fun today, I don't want to ruin it." _

_Sebastian caught his lips in a gentle kiss, petting his hair. "We can come back tomorrow. That's the beautiful thing about lakes, it'll be right where we left it." _

_Tristan blinked rapidly. "Sebastian..." _

"_Let's go, darling. We can talk at my house." _

_They didn't speak until they arrived there. Tristan so solemn, and worried, wringing his hands. _

Don't leave me, _he prayed. _Please, don't leave me, Sebastian. Please, don't...

"_Okay," Sebastian said, sitting down beside him on the bed. "You want to tell me what's going on?" _

"_It just...happened. I saw all of these people around me and I felt..." He shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. "I felt so..." _

_He stood slowly, peeling his shirt off, quivering. Sebastian looked at him, pain in his eyes._

_So thin, fragile as a bird. He would have been pasty if not for his constant athletics, but he was certainly too pale. His chest and stomach showed muscles from those sports. His teammates probably wouldn't have asked, wouldn't have noticed. His mother...his mother was hardly home, hardly able to get a good look at him between her jobs, siblings too young to see._

_Tristan looked in the mirror in front of him, tears in his eyes, glowering at himself. "You're so handsome, Sebastian. You're so gorgeous and perfect. I'm..." _

_He tugged at his skin, hard fingers and nails scraping over himself, loathing in his eyes. "Disgusting. I feel so putrid, so...huge, so worthless. Ugly, ugly Tristan with his stupid hair and his stupid freckles. Hideous boy that's never good enough. Never!" He bowed his head, shaking it. "This is what I see every day. Every time I pass anything where I can see myself, that's what I see." _

_Sebastian stood slowly, coming up behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing between his shoulder. Tristan winced as he took his hands, prying them from their work at tearing his skin. "Stop, baby," he whispered. "Would you like __to know what I see?" Tristan sniffed, giving no reply. "I see beauty. I see kindness and tenderness, gentleness that I've never seen in another human being before. You're wonderful. _You_ are perfect, Tristan. Not me."_

"_I wish that helped," he breathed. "I want to stop, Sebastian. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I'm tired of hating myself so much." _

_Sebastian turned him around, hugging him to his chest. "There's things we can do. People we can go to to help you," he explained, nodding. He held his cheek, thumbing a tear away. "I'll help you through this, darling. I promise. We'll get through this together, I promise." He kissed him, holding him close. "I'll always think you're beautiful. You could be bald, or blind or purple for all I care. I love _you_. Does that help at all?" _

_Tristan rested his head against his chest. "A little," he admitted, sighing softly. _

_Sebastian rocked him gently, cheek against his. "It'll be alright, baby. I promise."_

* * *

><p>"STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"<p>

"TRISTAN, GET BACK!"

"_COME HERE, YOU LITTLE FAGGOT!"_

Tristan fought everything that was in him not to charge as Sebastian was tossed against the wall. "Tristan, just stay there!" His cheek was already swelling from the blow he'd just received, steadying himself, standing strong and tall. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, staring at the monster that had invaded his nightmares for so long.

"Sebastian, don't!" Tristan begged, shaking his head.

"You shut up, you disgusting little cocksucker!" His father snarled. Sebastian charged forward, throwing a punch right into his jaw. The older man staggered back, his eyes wild. "You son of a bitch."

"I'm not gonna let you talk to him that way, or me, or anyone else. Fuck you."

They collided, punches thrown, fighting, kicking and screaming .

Tristan watched, shaking with anger, wishing he could do something, wishing Sebastian would _allow_ him to do something. He took another step closer when Sebastian was tossed against the wall again.

"Don't, Tristan, stay put," he breathed.

"I could snap you in half," the monster glowered at the boy, giving Sebastian enough time to get his hand free and collide with his gut.

Another hard strike to his son's face. He was thrown to another wall, looking so small and thin, so young. Too young to be treated like this. Tristan reached out, intending on stopping this, on taking Sebastian away, far away from this so he wouldn't be hurt anymore.

"JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE!" He barked, reaching out to take him. The monster grabbed his arm, slamming it against the wall beside his son in the process. Tristan cried out, Sebastian threw another punch.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

"Bradley!"

Everything stopped, frozen where they were.

Tristan held his arm, only inches from Sebastian now, who was breathing hard and staring at the doorway.

"Stay out of this, Charlene," his father, Bradley apparently, warned.

"Brad, what the hell are you doing?" She hissed. "My mother-"

"Now, where's my darling grandso-" The older woman that had bustled her way through the door observed the scene before her. The state of Sebastian and Tristan, and Bradley for that matter. "What's going on?" She demanded.

"Mother, you should-"

"Sebastian and I had a disagreement," Bradley explained cooly. "And his _friend_ here, was just leaving." He grabbed his injured arm, hauling him away from his son.

"No!" Sebastian cried, lunging to grab him back. "No, you're not taking him away from me again!"

"_Shut your mouth, queer,_" he hissed, holding Tristan tighter.

"Ow," Tristan gasped, still trying to get away.

"Bradley, let that boy go!"

"Mother-"

"Quiet!" She snapped. Slowly, the man let go, leaving Tristan to rush to Sebastian and look him over.

"Marilyn, I-" Bradley began, giving worried glances toward the couple.

"Sebastian's a homosexual?" She asked, her tone even, expression blank, unreadable.

"Yeah, Nana, I am," Sebastian said softly, touching Tristan's waist. She looked at Bradley.

"Have you been abusing my grandson because of this?" Still stony.

"Now, Marilyn, you have to understand, I was just trying to protect the family."

"By knocking a seventeen year-old boy senseless for his sexuality, yes that makes perfect sense," she scoffed. She looked at her daughter. "And you've certainly known about this for some time." It wasn't a question.

"Mother, Sebastian provokes him-"

"I'm certain he does," he said, glaring at her. "Can the two of you leave us? I have a few things to say to my grandson."

Neither of them moved for a moment, each exchanging glances with each other and Sebastian before leaving the room, whispering to themselves.

Marilyn waited a moment before speaking. "Sit down, darling." She sat on a chair, gesturing for the couple to sit on the sofa in front of her. "What's your name, dear?" Tristan blushed.

"Tristan Durand, Madame," he said softly. She smiled.

"Comment allez-vous, cher?" He perked up, happy to hear native tones. Sebastian watched his grandmother carefully through the exchange, confused.

"Nana," he said, interrupting. "Are...are you alright with this? With...with us?" Sebastian took his hand.

"Of course I am. Why should I care? Your grandfather was gay and hid it and look how well he turned out!" She chuckled. "The man's dead and didn't bother to tell me. I always knew though. He'd never divorce me, never for a minute. Not with all he thought was at stake."

He stared at her. She smiled, patting his hand. "Sebastian, the only thing wrong with you is taking your father's shit for this long. Here." She reached into her purse, taking out her check book. "This should get the two of you by until you get your trust fund from me."

"Nana, you don't have to do that, really. And Father-"

"Let me handle your father," she growled. "Never liked him. Not good for my Charlene, either." She touched Sebastian's cheek. "I know he's hurt you. I don't know how much, but judging by the look on Tristan's face right now I'd say it's more than I can bear. You don't worry about him. You worry about finishing high school, alright?"

"You don't have to do this for me," he whispered.

"Yes I do. I'm your grandmother. And if your parents won't take care of you then myself and this lovely boy right here will," she said firmly. "Go pack your things, darling. I'll help you find an apartment tomorrow. For now, just stay with this adorable fellow, alright?"

"Okay," he breathed. This was happening. This was really happening. He looked to Tristan, who smiled gently.

"I'll help."

* * *

><p>Kurt stepped out of his Navigator, Blaine doing the same on the opposite side of the car.<p>

"We're staying here, aren't we?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded.

"Unless you have somewhere else to be?" He smiled. Blaine shook his head, coming around the front of the car to take his hand.

"Where else would I be?" He said, looking at him with those sappy, completely and totally enamored look. Kurt smiled back, pecking his lips.

"Hey, look," he said, nodding behind him.

Blaine turned.

Sebastian was holding hands with a blond boy neither of them knew, smiling and laughing with him, walking toward the Lima Bean just like they were. He pulled him into his arms, kissing him briefly.

He grinned when he saw them looking, waving and stepping over to them.

"Hey," he smiled, Tristan on his arm. "Uh, this is Tristan. Tristan this is Kurt and Blaine."

"Nice to meet you," Tristan said, shaking their hands. He looked at Kurt. "Kurt, right?" He nodded. Tristan hugged him abruptly, startling him.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, taking a moment before he hugged him back.

"Thank you, so much," he whispered. Kurt smiled. "For everything. You saved our lives."

"Happy to help."

Sebastian winked at Blaine, who rolled his eyes and chuckled before taking Tristan's hand again.

"So, what have you been up to?" Blaine asked brightly.

"Finishing the year up then I think I'm gonna transfer to Europe next year," he said happily.

"Oh? Where?" Kurt asked, instantly excited.

Sebastian and Tristan exchanged a glance. "We're still thinking about it."

* * *

><p><em>5 years later...<em>

"Sebastian! I'm home!"

"Kitchen!" The younger called back, hurriedly setting the table as quickly as he could. Tristan sauntered in, dusting off his hands.

"The vineyard's looking good," he smirked.

"Darling, there's only eight rows of grapes, I don't think it's a vineyard," he chuckled, coming around the table and kissing him firmly. Tristan held his waist, nuzzling their noses.

"I'll call it whatever I want," he teased, kissing him again.

"How was work?" He asked. He shrugged.

"Normal. Nothing elaborate. The team's doing well."

"Of course they are, you're their coach," he giggled. "Your dinner's getting cold." Tristan grinned.

"Why don't we have a picnic out under that tree beside the garden?" He asked. Sebastian smiled.

"I think that's the most cliché thing I've ever heard."

Tristan laughed, keeping their faces close. "I don't think we could do better than that in a million years."

"Then I think we'll have to try as hard as we can to do so."

**End**


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